With my wife gone for the week taking care of our grand babies, it’s been hit or miss for me in the kitchen. Tired of cereal and toast, I opted to visit a place my wife simply refers to as “Awful House.” I don’t know why she has an aversion to a place that brings you waffles and hash browns in abundance. Sure you don’t have to swallow since most of the food slides down; but where else can you go and see such an eclectic group of people? Don’t say Walmart, it’s in a class (less) all of it’s own.
As I awaited my meal I couldn’t help but notice the clientele. Just on my side of the restaurant there was a Muslim couple with the wife in her headscarf (they didn’t look happy) a grandmother, daughter, and grand daughter sat at the second table, they didn’t look happy either. The young granddaughter sported a nondescript fish hook piece of jewelry in her nose. Then there was the gay couple, who spread out over the whole two seats with their combat boots and tufted hair styles. At the far table, three old men sat talking about the old days. Oddly, they were the most animated in the whole room.
It took some time for my order to arrive, so I sat and studied the remainder of the room. I should have been more patient since the cooks today were all trainees; apparently a new place was opening up across town soon. After my meal arrived, my confidence in the trainers went out the window. My waffle tasted like an oven mitt with an uncooked center, my toast wasn’t toasted. It merely tasted like the bread came from a bread bag that had been left open all night long.
However my expected meal was forgotten as I studied my town’s smaller version of the United Nations. Except for the old timers in the corner, not one person in the place smiled even once the whole time I ate my breakfast. It was sad really. The waitress complained of her car having transmission problems to another customer, someone needed $300 for something else and the remainder had their heads down either phone surfing or just trying to ignore the world.
I often wonder as I sit in a strange place what others may think of my presence. Am I just as odd to them as I sometimes think they must be to me? Herein lies my thought process. I scope a room and I don’t see much that impresses me at all. My training tells me God on the other hand does the very same thing but He sees something I don’t; individuals who are extremely valuable. No matter the hair style, jewelry, or background, He can take the same occupants from this sad room and do some amazing things with them. He did it with a bunch of course fisherman once, why not an unenthusiastic group from this diner?
My breakfast wasn’t memorable, but it didn’t have to be. The “Good Book” encourages me to always view a roomful of people with the same eyes God has. If I do that, then I will recognize this bit of truth, a lousy meal is easier to swallow when you are among friends. After all, family reunions taught me that!